


Skin Deep

by Misaya



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body Horror, Bottom Armitage Hux, Dark, Eventual Sex, Exhibitionism, Falling In Love, Horror, Hux is Not Nice, Hux-centric, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Original Character(s), Phone Sex, Psychological Horror, Semi-Public Sex, Top Kylo Ren, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:49:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7992466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misaya/pseuds/Misaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armitage Hux, a young man with the weight of his father's corporate empire resting on his shoulders, discovers the desire to be held tightly. The desire to be protected. </p><p>Kylo Ren, the senator's son, has just the right frame to provide that protection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Corneum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [timekill3r](https://archiveofourown.org/users/timekill3r/gifts).



The main recipient of Hux’s current dizzying spell of infatuation was named Mitaka, a calm, mild-mannered man of rather ambiguous descent. A hint of Japanese around the eyes and the hair, perhaps, a little Spanish twist to his mouth that always made him appear that he was faintly amused at something or other. That small smirk, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners whenever he smiled, was more than enough to drive Hux mad, but that, in combination with the velvet butter silkiness of his skin, had Hux's heart skipping a beat or two every time Mitaka rolled towards him across the small expanse of cotton sheet separating them at night. He would loop an arm lazily over Hux's waist, pressing sleepy, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to the junction of Hux's neck and shoulder, and Hux would try to shudder back into the touch, his cock twitching hopefully between his thighs at the soft way Mitaka's arms tightened around him. He craved the constriction, yearned for the breathlessness, ached for all the ways in which he might be made to feel small.

It certainly wasn't easy, that. He had shot up in his teens, a weed sprouting and twisting fitfully towards the diluted light of his single father's attentions. But if he slouched, if he hunched his shoulders close together, if he held his breath and pulled in his stomach until his ribs jutted out like ridges on a graveyard, he found he could shrink. He could hide. He could be small enough to be protected. And perhaps that, after all, was what he wanted. What he'd spent his entire life searching for.

Mitaka mumbled something in his sleep beside him now, and Hux put away the philosophical musings of his psychological state for later, propping himself up on one of his elbows and turning to look at his lover of the present. His brow was furrowed, his lower lip drawn lightly between his teeth, his chest rising and falling with the even cadence of deep sleep. His skin gleamed in the milky moonlight puddling in through the bay windows in Hux's apartment bedroom, still thought of his and his alone even though Mitaka had moved in six months ago. Hux reached over, ran the back of his hand lightly over a small strip of skin that had revealed itself between the hem of Mitaka's undershirt and the waistband of his boxers. It would have been perfect, that perfect smoothness, save for the glossy silver scar drawn in a shallow curve below his navel. Playground accident, Mitaka had claimed when Hux had questioned him, almost frantically, about it. Hardly remember what happened.

How lovely it would be, Hux mused to himself, drumming his fingers lightly on the taut skin of Mitaka's thigh, to be surrounded by all that softness. It would swallow him like water, a rigid set of slender steel bars holding him tight in its stays. He'd have to sip at the air, his mind going dizzy with oxygen deprivation and warmth and lust. Just thinking about it had Hux's mouth going dry, his swallows rough and raspy in his throat as he reached down between his legs to where his cock was already starting to stiffen at the idea.

His cock wept clear sticky fluid across his fingertips as he leaned forward to press his nose to the hard curve of Mitaka's shoulder, inhaling greedily, desperately. He smelled like citrus, like waterfalls, like something Hux could only characterize as crystal mist, and he had to bite his lip to keep from whimpering like something wounded as his fist tightened around himself, steady, sure strokes from root to tip. The scent would only intensify as the day wore on, pulled tight around him, the headiest of perfumes, and Hux had to turn away to bury his face into the pillow and sob as the pleasure tugged taut in the pit of his belly. His hips thrust jerkily to meet his hand, the mattress quivering beneath him with his exertions, but Mitaka slept on, blissfully unaware.

The thoughts tugged disjointed across his mind. Whale bone. Lace. Satin chemises. And then, oh, Mitaka, the curve of his mouth deepening as he watched how pretty Hux could become, how lovely he had made him. Hux tasted the salty slick burst of blood in his mouth as he came, pulsing hot and slick in his boxer briefs, his breathing raw and shaky as his fingers loosened gradually around himself.

Melting. Soft. Boneless.

Hux cleaned off his hand as best he could with a dusty packet of wet wipes he found in the bottom of his nightstand, crumpling the used tissues onto the surface before drifting off to sleep.

* * *

 

Hux tried to curb the yearning inside him, but it grew. Insatiable. A wildfire. Demanding more and more and more until Hux was sure he'd all but burnt up from the inside out. Tossing Mitaka's cotton sweaters in the dryer over and over until the lint trap was full of bits of colored fluff and the sweaters had shrunk to two sizes too small. Struggling into the tight sleeves, gasping for air as the neckline squeezed at his throat, but it wasn't enough. Not nearly as satisfying. That, and Mitaka was considering switching to a dry cleaners' on Lavender Avenue because, as he liked to joke, Hux's front-loading washer and dryer set-up seemed to have a particular affinity for shrinking his clothes.

Hux's fingers twitched guiltily at his sides, and he had to curl his hands into tight fists to stop them.

"Dopheld," he crooned, the name lilting on his tongue like sugar. "Dopheld, don't be absurd. You know all of those services are just money gimmicks anyway. God knows whose clothing they're washing yours with." Hux feigned a shiver at the thought, and was pleased to see that Mitaka was taking his advice to heart, if the sincere expression on his face was anything to go by. "And I like them. Small, I mean. They're...cute."

Mitaka looked fairly unconvinced of this, but Hux could be convincing when he wanted to be, and it only took a few nudges and sultry looks towards the bedroom with its rumpled bed sheets before Mitaka relented. Hux unraveled in his arms, soft fluffy strings of wool tumbling onto the floor with every thrust and every gasp, and even in the throes of his orgasm Hux eyed Mitaka's heaving chest and wondered what it might be like to be inside.

Soon, he promised himself as Mitaka slumped to the other side of the bed, exhausted, his eyelids already fluttering with the exertion of trying to stay awake. Soon he would know. He tried to hide his manic grin of anticipation in the curve of his hand, but, failing that, reached out and reassured Mitaka with kisses and sweet words that he was just thinking about how much he adored him. Mitaka's breathing eased, his smile going lax, and Hux could see the lines of stitching already tracing themselves over his skin.

* * *

 

His father had told him at the age of seven that Hux had killed his mother. Had torn his way out of her, breathless and gasping and bloody, lungs straining and screaming, and his father had never quite forgiven him for it. 

Armitage, a name for the lonely, a name for the wanderers. His father had given it to him one crisp cool day in March, when the fog had swept thick and low through the city and misted the glass of the skyscrapers until everyone felt lost. Armitage Hux, a solitary name for a solitary boy, weighted down with the monosyllabic surname of the powerful. Hux Corporations had built itself from nothing, as his father liked to boast over whiskeys, neat, in crystal tumblers he pulled from an unseen drawer in his mahogany desk in the executive office.

And what will your legacy be? he always offered, after one sip. Two. The clock ticked loudly, its reverberations ringing heavily in Hux's head. He never had an answer, his fingers curling into fists where they rested against his thighs, his palms growing clammy with the heft of his father's disappointment.

Nothing again, Armitage? his father would tut before setting down his tumbler on the desktop - no coaster - and ringing for his secretary to come bring his worthless excuse of a son away.

But today was different, Hux could tell. His father seemed almost frazzled, his perfect composure ruffled, and he kept eyeing Hux suspiciously over the rim of his glass.

"Is something the matter?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from sounding too gleeful, trying to sip at the air lightly between words so that his father wouldn't suspect that his imperfect son had discovered yet another flaw in himself to exploit. "You're looking rather pale."

"Nothing's the matter," his father growled, sloshing another finger of Johnnie Walker into his tumbler. "Cleaning service didn't do as good a job as they should have. The office has got an odd smell about it."

A few heartbeats passed. Hux rubbed surreptitiously at a small splotch on his shirt sleeve that was all but invisible in the dim lighting.

"You still seeing that...person?" his father asked, struggling with the words. "Donald, was it?"

"Dopheld," Hux corrected him, smiling with rhapsodic nostalgia. "And no, unfortunately. We had a...conflict of interests."

"Hm. Is that right." His father gave no outward indication of satisfaction, but Hux could tell he was pleased. Perhaps he thought Hux was trying to reform himself, become more the conventional CEO's son in the attempt to take up where his father had left off. "He was beneath you, anyway."

"Yes," Hux mused, savoring the warm burn of the liquor as it wriggled its way down his throat. "He certainly was." And then, because he could hardly resist, he added with a pointed smirk, "Some of the time, at least."

His father waved his hand in irritation, frowning at the innuendo. "I hardly asked for details on your personal life, Armitage. I have other more pressing matters to occupy myself with."

"I'm sure," Hux agreed, allowing the subject to fall gracefully between them. He could still smell the citrus scrub that Mitaka was so fond of, the scent swelling and increasing as he grew heady with it. His father had already buried himself in the business section of the morning's newspaper, and Hux absentmindedly wondered if he was dismissed.

He pushed back his chair, a shuddery scraping noise on the thick carpet, making to stand, when his father ordered him brusquely to sit back down.

"We have been invited to the senator's ball on the twenty-sixth," his father informed him without looking up from the newsprint.

Hux paused, a moment to think. "The senator?" he asked, plopping himself back in the chair and pulling himself closer to the desk. "Do you mean the one with the rather dashing son?"

His father sighed in aggravation, pinching at the bridge of his nose to stave off an impending migraine. "You will not refer to Leia Organa like that, and you will not under any circumstances jeopardize this family's position by prostituting yourself out to her son. I expressly forbid it."

"Do you, now?" Hux asked, arching an eyebrow in distaste. "Unfortunately that particular tactic hasn't worked out too well for you in the past."

"You will conduct yourself like a proper young man of the appropriate family standing," his father continued, ignoring Hux entirely and swiveling his chair to gaze out the bank of plate glass windows overlooking the horizon of murky purple mountains in the distance. "And I am sure Benjamin Solo is aware of the proper etiquette for such occasions, so I would hope he understands the implications of such...fraternizing." This last word was dripping with loathing, but Hux brushed it aside without a second thought.

He'd last seen Benjamin Organa Solo (or Kylo Ren, as he preferred to call himself) in the society pages of some tabloid or another. A skinny waif of a blonde French model had been hanging off his arm, and Hux remembered thinking how big the contrast made the other man look, the seams of his Dior jacket all but straining to contain him. He had torn the page haphazardly out of the magazine, and still cherished its glossy surface some nights. Daring to hope.

"Yes, Heaven forbid we corrupt Senator Organa's son," Hux sneered back, impertinent as ever. But of course, what he hoped for, what he prayed for fervently, was that Benjamin Organa Solo would prove to be just as corruptible as many other young men of status. That Benjamin Organa Solo might be fond of straying from the beaten path. That Benjamin Organa Solo might, in fact, resemble Hux even in just the slightest way.

Clearly his father had had enough of the conversation, and he dismissed Hux from his office with a wave of his hand. Hux rolled his eyes furiously at his father's back, but made sure to tiptoe out of the room, closing the heavy paneled mahogany door quietly behind him. His father could be quite particular about those types of things, and Hux didn't want to jeopardize the new opportunity that had suddenly blessed him with its presence.

He waved a cheery goodbye to Janice, the secretary, who nodded back at him over the cover of last month's GQ. Hux punched the silver button for the elevator to take him back to the building's lobby, shivering slightly as he took a deep breath and felt the stretch and pull of skin over his ribs. It was almost more than he could stand, but the effect had lessened considerably since his father's information had hit home.

Benjamin Organa Solo. He rolled the name over his tongue, relished the syllables in the pocket of his mouth as he stepped into the elevator and the carriage began its swift descent towards the ground floor. He could picture it now: the thick hair, the full mouth to match, the moles and freckles dotting over his skin like constellations. He wondered how far they went, wondered if he would possibly have a chance to explore it. Mitaka, for all his smoothness, had lacked variety, and, weeks after they'd parted ways, Hux was, admittedly, getting a little bored with the whole situation.

There were a vast list of improvements he'd have to make for the next time, though, he thought, humming cheerily to himself as he spilled out into the cool October day. The other pedestrians on the sidewalk eyed him cautiously, gave him a wide berth, as though they might know his secret, but Hux did not mind in the slightest. The feeling of security Mitaka had given him carried him with confidence, and he pulled his shoulders back, tilting his head condescendingly, ticking off the adjustments he would try out.

A sharper knife, for one. Had to get the cuts precise. That was always important.

A kilo of salt from the grocer's down the street from his apartment. His alone, again. He hadn't used nearly enough the last time, but he chalked it up to his beginner status and the relative vagueness of the Wikihow article that he'd followed.

Spiral boning. The assorted boning kit he'd purchased off Amazon had only come with plastic boning of the sew-on variety, and though it was relatively functional for its price, he could already feel the looseness, could already feel the ill rush of air into his expanded lungs.

Yes, he thought to himself as he hailed a cab and slipped into its dim interior, instructing the driver to take him to the outlets downtown. He would make all those changes and more, but for now he had to find the perfect outfit for the senator's ball in a few short weeks. Benjamin Organa Solo was, after all, a man of relative wealth and relative class, and Hux was eager to impress. As the cab sped through traffic and red lights alike, Hux toyed with the idea of taking Mitaka with him to the ball. Gave it a hard thought.

But no, Mitaka's presence would make him too nervous, he decided ultimately as the cab double parked illegally next to the entrance to the mall. A waistcoat, then, something from Armani and something just the slightest bit too small. He tossed a few bills in the driver's general direction before stepping towards the automatic doors. The soft hiss of cool canned air blew gently into his face, and Hux smiled to himself as he ambled towards the gentlemen's shops.

Perhaps a new scent was in order, too. Sauvage by Christian Dior had just come out recently, and Hux was feeling just the slightest bit wild.


	2. Lucidum

Admittedly, Hux did feel a little guilty about dropping off his dirty linens at the Chinese laundry three blocks from his apartment, but they were the only business he trusted with discretion and the safe handling of his thousand thread count Egyptian cotton sheets.

The wizened old lady behind the laminate counter glared at him suspiciously over the tops of her round wireframe glasses as she ran her liver-spotted hands through the soiled cloth, rubbing hard at a stain between her finger and thumb.

"And this is?" she snapped at him, in an accent Hux could barely understand. He listened hard, picking out the syllables and trying to consolidate them into something with meaning. The laundromat smelled like hot starch and the acerbic tang of bleach, and now this sick sweet scent, like salt and dying roses. A garden gone to rot.

He shrugged helplessly. "My girlfriend," he said, as a matter of explanation, and the worry in her eyes left, only to be replaced by a mild sort of helpless disgust that clearly stated that some things were better left off being replaced. "Sorry, the sheets were expensive."

"Pick up at the end of the week," she sniffed, turning away from him to stuff the cotton sheets into a haphazard heap on a wire shelf to the side. She pulled out a yellow ticket, barely glancing at him again as she scribbled down his order information. One king-sized bed sheet, for Armitage Hux at 3401 Marks Square, Unit 712. "We hold for twenty-four hours before we toss it." From the looks of it, she appeared as though she sorely wished to do exactly that.

He stuffed the ticket stub in his wallet, his wallet into his back pocket, and pushed his way out into the chilly air. His breath puffed from his mouth in silver spurts, and he shivered, tugging the collar of his coat further up around his neck.

The leaves on the spindly trees planted alongside the streets were dry and brittle, many of the branches bare. The last remaining drifts of the season crunched beneath the soles of his shoes, and Hux stopped into a corner cafe for a caffe au lait that nearly burned his hands through the thin paper cup it was served in. The coffee warmed him up from the inside out, and he turned his thoughts to more pressing matters at hand, such as the senator's ball coming up in only a few short weeks.

October had passed into November quickly and with little fanfare. Hux had not done anything particularly special for Halloween, save for cracking open a bottle of Glenfiddich he'd been saving for a rainy day and watching a rerun of American Psycho he'd found on TNT.

Thanksgiving was turning out to be promisingly dull, as well. There was nothing to be thankful for, according to his father. The world was full of war, taxes, mass shootings. Bad politics, budget cuts and the like. But Hux had seen the pictures, the family house decked out in tinsel for Christmas and merrily glowing pumpkins for Halloween. His mother stood beaming in each one, a thin, pale wisp of a person that Hux had never known, though he had inherited her hair, the curve of her mouth, and the smattering of freckles that spattered across the bridge of her nose in soft constellations. His father appeared almost happy in these pictures, his eyes crinkled at the corners and his mouth twisted up in something that looked almost like a pained rictus of delight. The look didn't suit him at all.

Kylo Ren had been tearing up the society pages of the tabloids recently, but never failed to be shunted to page six or seven, probably due to some desperate pleas on the part of his publicity agent or dire threats made by the senator's PR team. Hux lapped up what little scraps of information and generous guesstimates the media was willing to offer him, resplendent with pictures of Kylo in the latest winter fashions. Models and B-list celebrities flitted in and out of his pictures. Never the same one twice. Hux always managed to crop them out of the frame, the glossy paper tearing gently beneath the snick of his scissors as he taped the images he particularly liked into a scrapbook he had made for just such purposes. He had thought about pasting the pictures into the blank pages in the album he had made of Mitaka, fretting about what a waste of paper it was to leave all of them empty, but had ultimately decided against it. Kylo was different, Hux could tell, without even the faintest trace of doubt in his mind. He was bulky, large; he could probably hold Hux so tightly his ribs creaked with the anticipation of breaking, and the very thought of this sent Hux into a frenzy.

"Please, sir, spare a little something?"

The voice came from somewhere around his feet, and Hux paused. The paper cup of coffee had started to grow cold in his grasp. Tourists and businessmen alike streamed around him and the voice beneath him, islands of stillness in the motion.

The man at his feet almost blended into the shadows in the mouth of the alley he was sitting in. His clothes were torn and grubby, his face sporting stubble grown over who knew how many days or weeks or months. Years, maybe. The thought was depressing to consider, and Hux shoved it out of his mind as quickly as it had come. His cheeks were sunken, his skin slightly jaundiced. The sour smell of dirt and unwashed skin assaulted Hux, and he flinched away almost instinctively.

"Sir?" The man looked tired, his teeth stained and cracked. "A little food, a drink, anything?"

Food. Hux hadn't eaten breakfast yet, and his stomach grumbled a little in dismay at the inattention. There were sausages in the freezer, containers and containers full of them. He wouldn't eat them, he knew. It had been more of an experiment, more to see if the sausage grinder he had purchased off Amazon would actually work. He recalled the slick feeling of intestinal casing in his hands, sending a shiver up his spine; the scent of spice and herbs a fond remembrance of clean citrus and shiny new pennies fresh from the mint.

"Can you give me a minute?" he asked the man, redundantly. "I've got something up in my apartment."

The man nodded blankly at him, as though unable to understand that someone might be willing to go out of their way for him.

* * *

 

There was a message waiting in the reception lobby for him, and the security guard behind the counter eyed him suspiciously as he handed the note over. "Someone from the police department for you, sir," he muttered gruffly before returning to his newspaper, though he continued to watch Hux over the top of the headlines. A name and phone number had been scribbled hastily onto the yellow sticky, instructing Hux to please call Detective Crane at his earliest convenience. Hux pocketed it, thanked the security guard for holding the message, and hurried up to his apartment.

A lick of fear curled through him, unbidden, unbridled, as he unlocked the door and pushed his way in. The apartment smelled blank, sterile, save for the faint hint of the floral decoration on the coffee table, petals wilting onto the glass. What could the police possibly want with him? he wondered almost frantically to himself. It had to do with Mitaka, he was certain; there was nothing else it could be about. He didn't use drugs, had no affiliations with white collar crime, never got his blood alcohol level near the legal limit. Somehow, some way, they knew, someone must have seen or suspected or -

Cold logic slammed into him then, clicking neatly into place and wiping away his panic thoughts, leaving a cool, clean slate behind. No. If they had suspected, he would have been taken in already instead of being instructed to leave a call. Certainly that would have been the case.

His chest relaxed, his breathing came easier, and he even managed a smile to himself as he rummaged through the back of his freezer for a plastic Tupperware of pre-cooked sausages, popping it into the microwave to defrost for a few minutes. The floral scent in his apartment was slowly overcome with the smell of warming meat, and his stomach growled even louder.

Patience.

The links glistened slick, shiny, steaming in the casings, and Hux licked his lips almost longingly, wondering what it would taste like. Just one? Just a bite, maybe? He had to force himself to pop the lid back onto the Tupperware and bundle it into a plastic bag with a set of plastic utensils he had leftover from some long ago carryout. A bottle of water, chilled from the back of the fridge, went tucked under his arm, and, checking his wallet, phone, and keys were in his pockets with the sticky note, Hux went sauntering out of his apartment.

The man was still there in the mouth of the alley when Hux returned, and he looked up with the same blank stare as Hux's shadow fell across him. His eyes widened in recognition before fixing greedily on the things Hux was carrying.

"For you," Hux said, before the man could say anything. He swore the man's eyes almost started to tear. Hux was nothing if not the epitome of human kindness.

He had barely handed the container of sausage over before the man had already ripped the lid off it and started inhaling the meat greedily, not even bothering to unwrap the plastic fork and knife from its cellophane packaging. Hux watched with a mild sense of distaste coupled with intense longing as the man chewed. Swallowed. Chewed. Swallowed. Licked greasy lips and looked up at Hux with something close to manic adoration.

"It's delicious, sir," he mumbled through a full mouth, oil glistening at the corners of his lips and his unkempt whiskers. "God bless you."

"And also to you," Hux responded in kind, a warm smile spilling over his face as the last remaining loose end tied itself into a neat knot. His appetite clamored with a vengeance, and after wishing the homeless man a good day, he fought past the stream of humanity, now only tourists, towards a little breakfast nook on the South Side that had just opened. It had gotten glowing reviews in Zagat, and Hux was eager to try something new. 


	3. Granulosum

Detective Crane had a smoker's rasp that was only amplified over the wiry crackle of telephone static. Hux cupped the phone to hi sear, struggling to hear over the midmorning commotion in Snooze, the new breakfast place that he'd read up on. They specialized in eggs Benedict and Canadian bacon, but Hux personally couldn't see what all the fuss was about. He dragged the tines of his fork through a puddle of slowly congealing egg yolk as he waited for the detective to finish clearing his throat. 

"It's Hux. Armitage," he clarified, when the detective paused to breathe. "You had some questions to ask me?" Despite his earlier period of calm, his heart had started pounding quickly in his chest again. Nervousness. Fear. Anxiety. A lack of confidence that he thought he'd managed to train himself out of. He pictured Detective Crane as something like a sheriff in one of the old black and white spaghetti westerns of the past, a broad-brimmed hat tugged down low over one eye and a fat cigar stuck in the corner of his mouth. He would be a no-nonsense sort of fellow, Hux was sure, and he had to force himself to calm. down. 

"Right," Crane muttered gruffly. "This is just a formal inquiry into the disappearance of a Mr. Dopheld Mitaka." Hux's heart skipped a beat, least of all because Crane had the indecency to butcher his name. "I have been retained in order to investigate this incident, and some colleagues of his mentioned your name. Does Dopheld Mitaka" - butchered again - "ring a bell?"

Hux swallowed hard, his mouth dry, nodding before he remembered that Crane couldn't see him. "I am familiar with him, yes," he said, when he'd gotten his voice back. The word familiar had stuck in his mouth for half a second too long, because they had been - were - so much more than that. It seemed an insult, and he made a mental note to make amends for it later. 

"Perfect!" Crane barked into the phone, the exclamation making Hux startle. His iced water shook in its glass. "If that's the case, I would like your permission to conduct a formal interview with you regarding the case. Do you have time to come in to the station this morning?" 

Hux scowled darkly at his plate, vaguely wishing that he hadn't asked Janice to cancel his morning appointments the day before. He'd have an excuse that way. Work related, seeing some business clients that were very important and dear to the heart of Hux Corporations, surely the detective understood, being a working man himself. Right? He pinched at the bridge of his nose in exasperation, feeling a migraine building up somewhere behind his eyeballs. The day was shaping up to be nothing short of fabulous, in the most sarcastic sense of the word, and Hux thought that, quite frankly, he would have preferred the tedium of his coffin of an office on the fourteenth floor in Finance and Accounting. He could picture the detective's office already, in the back of his mind, some dreary little place in a basement of a building somewhere. The stucco ceiling would be cracked; the desks would be covered with yellowing paperwork curling at the corners, cases for missing persons who were long since dead and gone. It would probably smell faintly like cabbage, and Hux would feel a dreary, damp sort of chill soaking into his bones the moment he stepped through the door and plopped himself into the rusted folding chair across from the detective's desk. 

No. It was not a good thought, at all. 

But he had no good reason to lie, no good motive. It might look suspicious, Hux decided to himself with a sort of dread growing knots in the pit of his belly. "I suppose I do," he mumbled, albeit a bit reluctantly. 

Crane rattled off the precinct's address, and Hux idly scrawled it onto the back of the customer copy of his receipt. He repeated it to make sure that he had the correct information before promising he would arrive in about an hour, and Crane hung up with a brusque grumble of something that might have been "Thank you." 

The breakfast had hardly been worth it, after all, nothing worth raving about. Maybe it was an acquired taste. Hux took a glance around at his fellow breakfast-eaters. None looked particularly like gourmands, or aspiring ones; in fact, the place was overrun with families and young couples sharing iced lattes and batting eyelashes at each other. 

Hux wrinkled his nose in distaste. Mitaka hadn't been much of a breakfast eater, and he could hardly imagine coming here with him, hand in hand. But he could hardly deny that he was beginning to miss him. Sorely. 

Was it him? Hux wondered, idly doodling spirals and circles by the precinct's address. Was it truly him that he missed, or was it something else? Or was it the feeling of a body in his bed, leaving wrinkles in his sheets that he could trace his thumb over in the late mornings as physical evidence that something had happened? Was it the feeling of being wanted, of being held so tightly he could barely breathe? 

Yes. Perhaps that was it, he decided triumphantly. He'd never been much of a sentimental person, and surely the detective would leave him alone if Hux informed him that he and Mitaka had parted on amicable terms, with a complete doneness of the situation trailing between them and severing their relationship from something into... 

Hm. Well. Not into nothing, perhaps. Hux still had the mementos and gifts and photographs to prove that there was once something. Crane probably already had some of those, too, if he was even a halfway decent detective. He'd already have known that Hux and Mitaka were dating, would already have known Hux's answers to his introductory inquiry before the words had even left his mouth. 

But Hux had the mementos and gifts and photographs to say that there was still something, though those were for him and him alone. The thought of Crane's grubby, greasy fingers rubbing over what was left of the two of them, his face wrinkling in a gross misunderstanding in the face of something truly beautiful, sent a shudder of revulsion down Hux's spine. 

He wouldn't understand, he was sure. Perhaps no one else would, and the thought of that made Hux feel, for the first time in a long time, very, very lonely. 

He tugged his the lapels of his coat tighter around himself, burrowing his nose into the stiff collar and breathing in the soft, comforting scents of detergent and the cologne he'd used that morning. They were familiar smells, and Hux breathed in deeply. Once. Twice. Again. The commotion faded into a muted backdrop, and his heartbeat slowed. Calm. 

He folded his napkin, dabbed the corner into a water glass, and wiped his mouth again to remove any last traces of crumbs from the corners of his lips. One had to look professional, after all, the very calm, composed image expected of a CEO's son. Thumbing in the address of the precinct into his phone, Hux let himself out of the patio area of the cafe, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets as he waited on the sidewalk for the UBER to come cart him off to the next turning point in his life.

* * *

 

Much to his surprise, the back seat of the Mercedes was already occupied when the driver squealed into a spot next to the curb designated for Loading Only, hopping out of the car quickly to open his door for him. He stood uncertainly on his square of sidewalk, frowning at the dim profile of the other rider he could just barely make out in the car's dark interior. 

"What's this about?" he asked, trying not to sound too rude. "I believe I specifically requested not to fare share." 

"Sorry, man," the driver grumbled, looking rather irritated by Hux's refusal to get in the car right away. "Figured you two were going to the same place, and gas is expensive. C'mon, buddy. Save the environment a bit, why don't you?"

Hux despised the man's tone, but it had taken long enough just to get this driver out here, tucked away as it was in the maze of alleys that made up the urban area of the South Side. Another one might not happen along in a timely fashion, and Hux was just eager to get the interview over and done with. 

"Fine, fine," he muttered, ducking his head and dipping into the car. The driver shut the door on the two of them, the tinted windows blocking out what weak rays of sunlight had decided to peek out from the thick cloud cover on the horizon. Hux turned to the other person, a forced smile on his face, an apology for the inconvenience already bubbling on his lips. 

"You're...Armitage Hux, aren't you?" 

Hux squinted in the darkness, trying to make out any distinguishing features. The voice was deep, the syllables languid and tumbling right out of the man's mouth as though he were barely moving his lips at all. 

"Charmed, I'm sure," Hux said, sticking his hand out in the general darkness uncertainly. It was grasped by a hand larger than his own, long, thin fingers curling around his own for a brief, tight squeeze before pulling away. "Forgive me, the light in this vehicle is particularly horrendous." Their driver was arguing with someone outside, and had made no move to get back in the car. He certainly wouldn't be getting a good rating from Hux. "And you are?"

"Kylo Ren." A thrill ran down Hux's spine. "You might know me as Benjamin Organa Solo. You know. The senator's son. My mother introduced me to your father a few weeks ago, and he mentioned something about a son. Naturally, I was intrigued, so I did some research of my own." 

"Right, of course," Hux hastened to say. "We're invited to your ball - er, your mother's ball - on the twenty-sixth." 

Kylo chuckled, a rumbling sound deep in his chest that Hux found himself wanting to hear more and more of. He now had another reason for his infatuation, growing deeper by the minute, and as the driver finally grumbled something uncouth and stepped into the car to drive them to the precinct, Hux examined the slice of Kylo the weak outside light provided. 

A flash of a smile. Wavy hair, tousled to an artful mess. A full, plush mouth that Hux could just imagine pressing kisses into with abandon. Dark eyes that Hux could get lost in, night after night after night. He swallowed roughly, trying to curb his want.

"Careful," Kylo warned, the hint of a laugh in his voice. "Your lust is showing." 

Hux gawked at him, caught off guard. "I - ahem, I beg your pardon?" 

Kylo leaned forward, pulled up the privacy divider the driver had had the foresight to install. Hux's irritation towards the man abated, somewhat. "The way you look at me," Kylo explained, leaning back with a sigh into the seat. Hux was all too aware of the presence of the other man next to him, imagined reaching out with tentative fingers to feel the heat rising from Kylo's clothes into his veins. "I've seen that look before, trust me. You've probably seen me in the pages quite a lot recently. I'm afraid I'm a bit of a wild card in my dear mother's campaign, so she's sending me off to do some silly little meet and greet at our fine Department of Justice in the hopes that it'll generate some positive publicity." 

"Showing that you're a playboy in the sheets, well-adjusted young man in the streets?" Hux joked, settling back into his seat himself and trying not to pretend that he was affected even an iota by Kylo's presence. 

"Something like that," Kylo agreed. Out of the corner of his eye, Hux studied the other man's profile, illuminated faintly by the specters of sunbeams spilling through the darkened windows. He was massive, a hulking frame in a small car, his long, lanky legs crossed, knee to ankle. A flash of pale skin. Hux ached to touch, his fingers twitching, wondered how far the moles dotting constellations across Kylo's neck went. "Though I'm sure someone could convince me to settle down."

"Really now," Hux murmured, drumming his fingers on his thigh. His nervousness about his upcoming appointment with Crane was all but forgotten. "Somehow I find that hard to believe."

"Do you?" Kylo asked. "I don't. Of course, nobody ever told me Brendol Hux had such a...lovely son." His voice lingered on the words, and Hux felt a flush, unbidden, brilliant, daring, rising to his face. He was sure if he reached up to press his fingers against his cheeks, he would feel them burning. 

"I never saw you with any, ah, men in the pages," Hux said, pointedly not turning to look to see Kylo's expression. 

"Well-kept secret," Kylo replied dismissively, shifting slightly in his seat. Hux was all too aware, the leather seats creaking slightly under the man's weight, the scent of Kylo's cologne and aftershave going straight to his head. "Mother's PR manager is rather good about that kind of thing."

A pause, then. Stopped at a red light, Hux watched the pedestrians idly out the window. A woman was trying to sell newspapers on the street corner, an island of stillness in a sea of businessmen and businesswomen rushing off to meetings, lattes clutched tightly in their hands and heels clipping briskly over the asphalt. 

"She can't stop everything, though." Hux jumped, his seatbelt cutting into his windpipe for a thrilling, exhilaratingly irritating moment, at the burning heat of Kylo's hand covering his own on the seat between them. "And I hardly think you would let the threat of some silly little PR manager come between us getting to know each other better, if I've judged you correctly." Kylo gave his hand a squeeze, tight almost to the point of being painful. Secure. 

"What do you say, Armitage?" Kylo's voice had dropped to a raspy whisper. "Want to try something new?" 

Hux could barely find the breath in him to answer. "Yes," he whispered back, his unsteady voice filled with certainty. "I think I might enjoy that." 

"Good. I'll contact you."

Just like that, the heat of Kylo's hand was gone, only leaving behind traces of its throbbing warmth imprinted into the spaces between Hux's fingers. Hux longed to reach back out, to take it for himself again, was just mustering up the courage to do so when the car pulled into the precinct's parking lot with a squeal of burning tires. A crowd of news reporters and photographers was already waiting outside the building's entrance, presumably to record all of Kylo's goodwill. 

Kylo reached out to open his door, and Hux studied the moment carefully, the almost blinding flash of milky light illuminating his frame as he stepped out, unfolded himself into the man Hux had only dared to dream of. The encounter in the car seemed surreal, unbelievable, incredible, and Hux could have sworn Kylo turned back to flash a smile at him, still in the backseat, before pushing his way through the throng of people. 

The thought of the future, suddenly so much brighter, kept Hux seated firmly, staring fixedly at his laced hands and waxing philosophical about destiny and fate until the driver impatiently pushed down the divider and asked him if he was quite ready to end the trip. 


	4. Spinosum

The inside of Crane's office was exactly as Hux had pictured it. A haze of smoke spilled through the air, making him cough, and the wallpaper was peeling at the corners of the room. A large water stain grew mold above the detective's head in the shape of Nevada, but he either hadn't noticed or was far too apathetic to care. Hux sat himself gingerly across from Crane, in a ratty armchair with cracked upholstery that looked as though it had certainly seen better days than this grim one. The water cooler burbled dismally in the corner, and the detective's desk was crowded with messy heaps of paperwork that made Hux want to scream and sweep them off the table to preserve his ordered state of mind. 

"Mitaka's file is in here somewhere," Crane grumbled, plopping down unceremoniously in a leather chair, dingy yellow stuffing leaking through cracks in the fabric. "Damn Janice. Always keep telling her I've got my own organization system. But you know how secretaries are, I'm sure, working for a big company like you do." 

Hux's heart sipped a beat at the familiar name before he pinched himself hard, under the table. It was just a coincidence, surely. It wasn't that far-fetched to presume that Crane had been looking up on him; it was his job, to investigate all the leads, and Hux was somewhat certain that Crane wouldn't resort to subtle mind games. Not at this stage in the game, when there was nothing to go off of. 

Just a simple disappearing case, surely. No indication of foul play, and there wouldn't be one unless Hux gave him cause to worry. He forced a pained smile on his face, and accepted Crane's offer of a glass of water. 

"Thank you, Janice," he tested, unable to help himself, as Crane's secretary plopped a dripping bottle of water on the only bare patch of desk in front of him. She glanced at him, nodded curtly. Her face had shown no sign of surprise, but Hux still harbored a slight feeling of unease and suspicion as he sat back in his chair. 

"Right, then, here we are," Crane muttered triumphantly as he unearthed a battered manila folder from the bottom of one of the stacks. "Thank you for coming in to help us, Mr. Hux." 

"Oh, just call me Hux," he said automatically. "Mr. Hux is my father." 

Crane raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. "Right then. Hux," he agreed, jutting down a scrawled note on a legal pad whose pages were littered with coffee rings. "As I mentioned on the phone before, this is just an investigation into the disappearance of Mr. Dopheld Mitaka, who, as far as my records go, was acquainted with you." Hux nodded, his fingers drumming nervously on his thigh, hopefully out of Crane's line of vision, concealed as it was by the messy heaps of paperwork and the ledge of the desk. "Can you go a bit further into exactly what capacity the two of you might have been familiar?" 

"We were partners," Hux said, albeit a bit reluctantly. The truth was better, for now, at least. It wouldn't do any good to be caught out in a lie. 

"Business partners?" Crane asked, peering at him over a pile of papers covered liberally with red stamps. There were deep circles under his sunken eyes. 

"Romantic," Hux clarified, almost wincing as he said so. To his credit, Crane refrained from saying anything, and only made another small note in the file. 

"Did the two of you have any falling out prior to his disappearance?" 

"No," Hux murmured truthfully, wondering exactly what the detective might classify a falling out as. "We parted ways amicably. We wanted different things from life." 

"Of course, as people do," Crane agreed, jotting down something else. Hux craned his neck, trying to read the scrawl, but it was near impossible. "Did he happen to mention to you anything about wanting to get away, or travel plans, something like that?"

"Nothing," Hux said, shaking his head. Crane looked a bit frustrated, gnawing at the end of an already battered-looking ballpoint pen. 

"And you're quite sure of this?"

"Yes," Hux replied, his heartbeat slowing. Crane had absolutely nothing to go on, that much was evident. The man was grasping at straws, and Hux could all but taste triumph. 

"You said you had a falling-out." Hux nodded in agreement. "When was this? An approximate date will be fine." 

Hux screwed up his face, pretending to think, let the silence drag out a little. "About three weeks ago, I guess," he said finally. 

"Hmm." Crane scribbled something down on the page, squinted at his own poor penmanship, then looked back at Hux with a scrutinizing gaze that would have set a lesser man to squirming. But, fortunately, Hux had a steel countenance that only years of Brendol Hux's targeted disappointment could create, and he met the detective's stare coolly. 

Crane broke the silence first. "Three weeks is a fairly long time," he commented, rifling through the folder and pulling out a spreadsheet that looked like an itemized list, or a schedule of events. "Were the two of you living together?"

"We were," Hux assented, wondering why Crane was asking questions that he already knew the answers to, wondering where this line of questioning was going. "Until our breaking up, so to speak." 

"And you had no idea where he was going to move out to, afterwards? You know, just in case he received some bills or something at your address and you needed to send it on." Crane asked with a frown. Hux shook his head. "Was he packing to go anywhere?" 

"I didn't notice," Hux replied. "This past month has been rather busy for the company, and I've been working late a lot of nights. It's possible he took some PTO to pack up and move out while I was in the office. No matter how friendly a break-up is, it's probably not too common to want to see a lot of each other after the fact."

Hux stopped talking suddenly, hoping he hadn't been babbling. Crane stared at him piercingly. 

after a long moment of silence, in which Hux's heartbeat roared obscenities into his ears, Crane continued. "I hope you understand where I'm coming from with this," Crane finally sighed, leaning back heavily and grimacing as the springs in his chair squealed loudly. "It just seems a little...odd, to say the least, that he wouldn't have made new living arrangements."

"Maybe he was staying with a friend?" Hux volunteered. 

Crane looked patently unconvinced. "Possibly. Maybe he went out of the country for a while. Clear his head a bit." 

"Possibly," Hux said, nervousness and anxiety settling back in. The situation was spiraling out of his control, and he didn't like that one bit. The water cooler bubbled, and the faint sound of typing and maybe-Janice's voice filtered in through the closed door. "I'm afraid I don't really have much more to give you." 

"Right, of course," Crane mumbled, waving a hand dismissively at Hux without looking up at him again. The chatter and noise from outside was growing louder. A quick peek over Crane's shoulder indicated the entry of a group of people, policemen and their next hapless interviewee, no doubt, who was acting quite the belligerent. 

"I'll be sure to contact you if I have any more questions," Crane finished, standing up heavily and cursing as he looked back over his shoulder. "Forgive me for cutting this lovely chat short, won't you? That chap there's probably the key to this one case I've been working on for ages now." He eyed Hux appraisingly. "A faked murder-suicide, we think," he said, almost conversational, as he opened the door. "Not the murder, obviously. The suicide." 

"I see," Hux said, standing up and following Crane out. The weak sunlight that filtered through the cracks in the lobby's blinds felt welcome, warm, safe, and the knot in Hux's stomach slowly started to unravel. 

He was almost out the door, was almost free, when Crane called him back. His throat clutched tight. 

A stiff card was stuffed into Hux's hand before he'd had any time to agonize over what detail Crane had just remembered. 

"If you remember anything else, anything at all, please don't hesitate to call me," Crane said, a new frown etched on his mouth as he saw Hux out. "I assure you, any information could mean the difference between us finding him and us not, at this stage in the game. And I'm sure you'd be pleased with positive results, too, no matter how...ah, friendly the break-up." 

"Right, I'll make sure to do that if I think of anything else." Hux spoke quickly, itching to get away, but he was pinned to the spot by Crane's suspicious stare and the firm hand Crane had clapped on his shoulder. "Um. Well. Have a nice day, then," Hux mumbled awkwardly, finally managing to extract himself from Crane's grasp. "Good luck with your next case." 

Crane had hardly shut the door to the office with a loud click than Hux was all but racing down the tiled hallways, his shoes clicking on the dingy linoleum. His breath ran ragged in his lungs as he burst out into the fresh, crisp air, and he didn't relax until his footsteps had carried him yards, streets, blocks far away from Crane. 

* * *

 

The excess nervousness had transformed itself into an excitement that Hux could hardly resist, bleeding into white hot searing pangs of lust and want and need the instant he clicked the front door of his apartment closed behind him. He toed off his loafers, tossed his coat somewhere in the general direction of his sofa, and bit his lip harshly as he reached down and splayed his fingers over the rapidly hardening bulge of his cock. 

Adrenaline coursed through him in a way it hadn't since, well, oh, three weeks ago, was it? He almost wanted to laugh, almost wanted to cry, because surely Mitaka would have found it funny. Would have at least laughed politely, would at least have been there to mouth kitten kisses over the insides of Hux's thighs as he wrapped a hand around Hux's cock. 

His belt slithered to the floor with a leathery hiss and the clink of the metal buckle on the tile. 

He was already pulsing, throbbing in his briefs, ready to come the moment he wrapped the curve of his hand around himself. Hux hissed through gritted teeth, leaning heavily against the door and biting at the soft skin of his wrist as he gave himself one languid stroke, massaging the weeping head with the flat of his thumb. 

Almost. 

He'd almost been found out, had almost let it slip, and that would have been terrible. Mitaka would have been taken from him, the too-small sweaters, the scent of citrus, the velvet smooth constriction. Hux let himself savor the closeness of the encounter, but the curl of pleasure in the pit of his belly had already licked itself into a fierce inferno that demanded his immediate attention. 

His orgasm ripped through him furiously, savagely, with an intensity that he hadn't thought possible before. Hux muffled a strangled sob quickly into his free hand, crests and valleys of pleasure sweeping through him rough enough to bring tears to his eyes. 

When it was over, he slumped heavily against his door, reaching up with his clean hand to run fingers through his sweaty hair as he tried to calm himself, tried to catch his breath. His phone vibrated where it had landed unceremoniously on a couch cushion, but Hux let it ring to silence, his ragged gasps the only noise as the evening shadows grew longer and longer around him. 

When his legs had finally regained some of their stability, he stumbled over to the couch to thumb open his phone. 

A new message from an unknown number. 

"It looks like you're into some interesting things, Armitage. I'd love to find out more." 

The text was unsigned, but Hux's heart leapt into his throat and butterflies swarmed in his stomach, regardless. His fingers trembled over the keyboard, until he finally tapped out a quick message and sent it too fast for regret. 

"Never thought you'd be one to kiss and tell." 

"A lot more than kissing, hopefully." The message shot back a moment later, and Hux had to sit down, slacks and briefs still tugged down sloppily around his hips. "Heard some interesting things. Thought some, too. Mother would be furious." 

Hux licked his lips, trying to stave off the smile that was threatening to take over. It felt dishonest, disloyal, even, with Mitaka just in the next room, but Hux felt sure that he would understand. 

"I'll show you at the ball." 

"Show what?" 

A pause. Hux's fingers stilled, trying to think. 

No. Surely not. That idea was something he'd had prickling around the corners of his mind for what felt like forever, but the repercussions and the backlash would be immense. It was depraved, and wrong, and Hux couldn't help but relish the thought the more he dwelled on it. 

"You'll like it," he finally replied. An ellipsis appeared, erased itself, appeared again. 

"Waiting is such sweet torment. I look forward to it." 

Hux's face cracked into a smile, and he clicked the phone off gleefully, stuffing it back into his pocket before heading off to the bathroom for a shower. He hadn't the faintest idea how Kylo had gotten a hold of his phone number - maybe he'd gone through Janice, a voice in the back of his mind whispered - but he was far too preoccupied with the thought of the next few weeks and the work he had to accomplish to pay it much attention. 

His smile widened as he stepped into the shower, the spray soaking him and setting his milky skin to burning. 

His father would be _livid_. 


	5. Basale

The remaining weeks leading up to the senator's ball on the twenty-sixth passed more quickly than Hux would have thought. The days dragged on in the Finance department of Hux Corporations, certainly, but the newly established contact with Kylo that had been set up made the days seem not quite so unbearable. 

"Well?" Kylo wheedled over the messaging app. Hux swallowed roughly, hoping that his direct supervisor was buggering off somewhere on the other end of the floor. 

"well what?" he asked quickly before setting his phone to the side of his invoice tray and trying to turn determinedly back towards his computer monitors to even attempt to look like he was getting some of his spreadsheets done. 

"well are you going to tell me or not? this little surprise you've cooked up for me. i've been waiting ages, darling." 

Hux tried hard to suppress his blush at the use of Kylo's endearment and failed miserably. He could feel even the tips of his ears burning as he surreptitiously tried to scan Kylo's message and think about what possible implications the wording might have. 

"call me, and maybe i'll tell you" he responded, his heart leaping in his throat, not believing for a second that Kylo would do it. That would transcend the boundaries of the quasi-relationship that had somehow sprung up between them, and despite Kylo's willingness to defy all reasonable expectations, Hux certainly hadn't been expecting Kylo to go through with it.

His eyes flickered back down to his phone screen, which was flashing intermittently as his phone vibrated none too subtly across his desk. 

INCOMING CALL from KYLO REN, it read in 12 point Arial. Hux's breath caught sharply in his throat, and he shoved himself away from the desk, scooping up his phone as he paced frantically towards the bathrooms at the end of the hall, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. 

"Hello?" he ventured, his voice far breathier and more uncertain than he'd ever anticipated it would be. He leaned against the door ofa relatively flimsy bathroom stall, and he waited with bated breath, listening to Kylo's hoarse breathing filtering down the line. "Kylo?"

"Yes, dear," Kylo drawled languidly, his voice crackling through deep and rich and lovely. Hux's heart skipped a beat. "It's me. Am I calling at a bad time? It is the middle of the work day, after all." 

"No, no," Hux began quickly, before he could remember not to sound too eager. Kylo laughed in his ear, not unkindly, and Hux blushed to the tips of his ears as he savored the sound. "It's the perfect time."

"Lovely," Kylo replied, and Hux wondered idly what Kylo was doing at this exact moment, given that it was, after all, the middle of the work day. Did he even work? He thought about Kylo in a sharply creased and pressed business suit, a perfect square of Windsor knot at the hollow of his throat. The width and breadth of his shoulders might strain at the linen of his jacket, and against his better wishes, Hux felt his pants start to tighten slightly at the thought. 

"and I was just - hello? Hux?" Hux snapped back to attention, his face aflame. He was grateful for the privacy of the bathroom stall, and reached up to loosen his tie. 

"Yes, sorry, I was thinking about something," he hedged, hoping perhaps that Kylo might not be the observant type and wouldn't notice the slight quaver in his voice. "What were you saying?" 

"I was just saying," Kylo said, with what sounded like a smile, "that I was wondering what lovely little surprise you've got all planned for me. You certainly know how to keep someone waiting. It's delightful and infuriating. Delightfully infuriating." 

"Right," Hux murmured, and all the uncertainties he'd had about the stunt he planned to pull at the senator's ball faded away in the wake of Kylo's whispers. "Well." He cleared his throat. "I was going to dress up for you." 

"Dress up?" Kylo sounded a tiny bit confused, but glossed it over easily with another low laugh that had Hux shivering slightly. "Well, I'd expect as much, though I'd also probably love to dress you down, too." 

Hux felt that he'd never blushed more. He felt positively feverish, and vaguely wondered if he could pull off the act long enough to convince his supervisor - and Janice - that he really wasn't feeling all that well, and could he beg off early for the day? Maybe fake some coughing, pretend it was contagious. 

"I was thinking of something a little...different, to say the least," Hux replied, wondering if Kylo was getting hot under the collar, too. He hoped so. "And I hope you'll like it."

"How could I not like you in anything, Armitage?" Kylo asked, his voice trilling over the R. Hux hated his name, hated the pretentious stuffy sound of it, and yet Kylo made it sound like something that could be beautiful. 

"Well," Hux sniffed, after what felt like a permissibly small amount of time had passed to let Kylo's last remark sink in, "I guess you'll see soon, then, won't you?" 

"I suppose I will, if you're sure you won't give me anything else," Kylo sighed, a mock admittance of defeat, and perhaps that was a small hint of hope at the end? Hux hardly dared to dwell on it for too long. 

"I could be convinced to give you a little more," Hux hinted, and, as he'd hoped, Kylo pounced on the opportunity like a starving man. 

"Please do," Kylo almost begged, breathless, and Hux relished the idea that he might have started to wrap the other man around his finger. "I'm not the most patient person, and you're a terrible tease." 

"My apologies," Hux said gleefully, though he wasn't at all sorry. "Just wait a bit longer." At Kylo's audible groan on the other end, Hux relented. "Just a few more hours, won't you? It is the middle of the work day after all." 

"If you must," Kylo sighed, but he didn't press the issue any further. "You'd better hurry on along back to your little office, then, love. Wouldn't want to keep your delightful presence from corporate, though this has been a more than pleasant diversion." 

"The feeling is mutual," Hux replied smoothly, smiling to himself as he pulled the phone away from his ear and tapped to end the call before Kylo could somehow convince him to spend another ten, fifteen, twenty minutes on the line in the staff bathroom. He sauntered out of the stall, feeling his spirits lift even higher at the glimpse of his rosy-cheeked face in the dim mirror, and hoped that his unnaturally long absence would go unmentioned. 

* * *

 

Hux could hardly wait for the end of the day to come, and it certainly didn't help that his fingers kept jittering nervously across his keyboard, his foot tapping a rapid tattoo on the carpet beneath his desk. He was driven to distraction, thoughts of Kylo and his thick lips curved into a tantalizing smile darting frantically through his mind if given half a chance, and he jotted down ideas and doodles on a small yellow legal pad at his elbow only to rip the pages off and crumple them promptly into his wastebasket. 

His supervisor asked him if he was feeling quite well, and Janice sent him a few snarky IMs over the company's internal messaging system asking who the new fucktoy was. He ignored her, save to send her a polite yet firm reminder that colorful language such as hers was not exactly office-appropriate. 

Five o'clock ticked around ever so slowly, and by four-thirty Hux already had his briefcase packed and ready to go next to his chair. He sighed impatiently as he sent off the last of his spreadsheets and made sure for the ninth time that all the papers in his outbox were aligned at the corners. 

At precisely five o'clock, he shot out of his chair and, without even a backward glance to see if anyone was watching, flung himself out of the office. He all but ran down the stairs, loosening his tie as he went, and burst through the doors to the parking garage, already out of breath. He prayed that there wasn't too much traffic, and slotted himself behind the wheel of his car, turning the key hastily in the ignition and clicking the headlights on as he reversed out of his spot. His tires squealed on the cement as he maneuvered out of the garage and onto the street. 

Much to his dismay, the street in front of him was filled with a sea of red lights, other corporate drones also heading home for the long weekend. He groaned, and it was only his superb sense of self-control that kept him from adding his own honk to the course of other horns around him. 

His phone vibrated in the cup holder next to him, and he looked down, ready to snap I whoever was bothering him now. 

Kylo Ren, the display read, and his heart skipped a beat. He'd really have to stop acting like this, like a smitten teenager going on a date for the very first time. He was much too old, and far too depraved, for innocence to look good on him, and he was sure that Kylo knew that as well. 

"Hello?" he asked, answering the call and sliding it to his car's Bluetooth System. Kylo's voice reverberated from the speakers. 

"It's the end of the workday," Kylo reminded him, his voice teasing. "and I believe you made me a promise, not too long ago." 

"It's just barely the end of the workday," Hux teased back, swearing under his breath as a car in the lane next to him tried to merge without warning. "I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment, so you'll have to forgive me."

"You driving home right now?" Kylo wanted to know. "Don't you know it's illegal to take a phone call when you're driving? I never tagged you for the rebellious type." 

Hux rolled his eyes dramatically before remembering that Kylo couldn't see him. "I would hardly count this as rebellious," he grumbled. "Besides, you hardly seem like the type to care about the rules." 

Kylo's laugh brought a smile to Hux's face. 

"Sorry for the wait," he apologized, sighing as he made a right turn and came face to face with another street filled with red lights. There was some sort of traffic jam ahead, and Hux could see the Flashing blue and red of Police cars. Clearly he wouldn't be getting home at a reasonable time, and he wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel in frustration. "It looks like there's some kind of accident."

"Hm." Kylo made a thoughtful sound. "You could make it up to me." 

Hux was intrigued. "How so?" he asked, his car inching forward ever so slightly. "I am driving, after all. Not too much you can do behind the wheel of a car in traffic." 

"On the contrary," Kylo countered smoothly. "You just have to use your imagination. Imagination and a bit of secrecy. I'm sure you're well versed in the second." 

"I can keep secrets quite well, yes," Hux agreed, wondering what exactly happened in the intersection ahead. An ambulance passed on his right, sirens blaring. "What did you have in mind?" 

"a little game, that's all," Kylo replied, seemingly unconcerned with the commotion on Hux's end. "Just a bit of harmless fun. If you're interested, of course." 

"Of course I am," Hux murmured, licking his lips at the thought of what harmless fun might constitute. 

"Great," Kylo purred, and Hux could only imagine him leaning back in an armchair with a tumbler of Scotch, his voice raspy from a cigar and his suit jacket undone. His hair would be rumpled, his tie loose, looking delightfully disheveled and tousled now that he was away from the photographers and the press. "Listen to me, ok? If it gets to be too much, you can stop. No hard feelings. Sound alright?"

"Sounds perfect," Hux replied, swallowing roughly and hoping that whatever game Ren was playing wouldn't involve him crashing his car. "So. How's this work?" 

"Simple. I say something that I think is true about you, and if it is, you have to complete one small request from me. If it's false, which it probably will be, since I'm an absolutely horrible judge of character, you can ask me to do one small thing. Think of it as an icebreaker exercise, just a lot more fun." 

"Hm." Hux was interested, but didn't want to let on exactly how much. "What sort of small things?" 

"Oh, anything," Kylo replied quickly, though Hux could swear he was laying on a thick flirtatious tone. "Though I definitely had more risque things in mind. Though if you'd like, I could go tamer." 

"No, no," Hux hastened to say, grateful that Kylo couldn't see him blush and even more thankful that the flashing red taillights from the cars ahead painted his face so the other drivers couldn't see. "Risque is fine." 

"I thought it might be," Kylo said, sounding triumphant. Hux almost hated how quickly Kylo had picked up on the darker part of himself. "If you're ready, I'll start, then." 

"Ready." 

"You've got some father issues," Kylo said promptly. Hux snorted in disbelief. 

"Everyone's got father issues to an extent," he snarked back. "You sure you're not just projecting?" 

"Why would I do that?" Kylo asked, sounding almost offended. "I've just...taken it upon myself to do a bit of research into you, as you've probably already done for me. Not that that was a statement for the game, mind. I'm just making an educated guess." 

"Perhaps a bit," Hux conceded, and Kylo's responding laugh told him that Kylo thought it had been quite more than just a bit. 

"Well, dear? Am I right? You and your father having rather strained relations?" 

"Fine," Hux snapped. "Correct, though I still think it's kind of a cop out question." 

"Fantastic," Kylo interrupted, appearing not to have heard. "You ready for your first task?" 

"Yes," Hux muttered, feigning irritation. His heart was thumping erratically behind his rib cage, his mouth dry as he wondered what Kylo would ask of him.

"Alright. This is an easy one. I just want you to reach up and unbutton your shirt. Carefully, now, you wouldn't want yourself to get into an accident." 

Hux swallowed roughly, pressing his foot tight to the brake pedal as he reached up slowly and began to unbutton himself, pulling away the panels of fabric. His nipples perked in the slight chill, and he shivered. 

"I bet your nipples are already hard, aren't they?" Kylo asked, sounding almost fond. "They're probably all small and pink and pretty, and I bet you love playing with them." 

"Is that part of the game?" Hux wanted to know, trying and failing to keep his voice steady. Just the thought of anyone possibly looking over and seeing him, painted crimson in his driver's window, his shirt open and his nipples hard, had his cock twitching with interest in his slacks. "Was that a statement of fact?"

"No," Kylo murmured, though he sounded a bit regretful. "They're things I think I would like to discover for myself." 

"And you think I'd let you?" Hux wanted to know. 

"Why, of course. After all, you're letting me do this to you, aren't you?" 

He had a point. Hux remained silent. 

"Alright, then. Ready for the next one?" 

"Yes." 

"Hm." Kylo mused for a moment. "You don't really agree with a lot of your father's business policies, and eventually want to stop working at the company even though your dad's probably trying to groom you for his position as the potential successor." 

Hux gaped at the glowing Bluetooth display, wondering how on earth Kylo could possibly have known all that.

"I scanned through your father's interviews, and compared them to things you post on social media," Kylo responded automatically, as though he'd heard Hux's unspoken question. "I'm rather good at finding people on the web, you know. Even if they don't want to be found."

Hux was unduly impressed. He'd hidden his Facebook and Twitter profiles under fake names and other such layers of secrecy to keep them away from his father's PR's team, and was rather surprised Kylo had managed to find him. Though, of course, he reminded himself, Kylo's social media pages were probably exactly the same. 

"Two for two," he replied. 

"Lovely. Now, then, I'd like you to reach up and pinch your nipples for me. I'd like you to roll them between your fingers, pinch them until they're rosy and hard and aching. I want you to be sore for me. You think you can do that?" 

"I can do that," Hux responded, his voice breathy. 

He ignored Kylo's jeer of, "Practiced a lot, have you?" in favor of licking lightly at the pads of his thumb and forefinger before slowly trailing his hand down the column of his neck and chest to tweak at his left nipple. Small prickles of pleasure twitched through his body to pool in the pit of his belly, and he sighed softly as he pinched his nipples to soreness, exactly as Kylo had requested. They prickled red and sensitive with every sweep of his thumb, and the thought of how they might feel later, scraping against the fabric of his shirt, left him breathless. His slacks were starting to feel uncomfortably tight, and he could feel a damp patch at the front of his briefs. 

"Wish I could see you," Kylo said wistfully, and Hux responded in kind. "Ready for another one, then?"

"Ready," Hux gritted out, forcing his hand away from his chest to settle on the steering wheel again. His car had barely moved. 

"You wish all your boyfriends would treat you a little more roughly," Kylo mused. "You want to go in to the office with hickeys on your neck and your hips sore with bruises. You'd like to find someone who can make you theirs, in all the ways that word implies." 

"Perhaps," Hux allowed, wishing his voice didn't sound quite so tight and strangled. 

"Perhaps?" Kylo laughed, lowly. "I think I'm right again, Armitage, love. You've got that look about you. Now. I'd like you to touch yourself. Touch yourself like you do when you're home alone and whimpering into your pillow, all by yourself in your cold king-sized bed." 

Hux huffed through his nose, frowning, but he didn't protest, his fingers eager and scrambling over the button and zip on his slacks. His cock was already wet, leaking across his fingers as he squirmed in his seat to tug his slacks and briefs down slightly over his hips. He took himself firmly in hand, granting himself a long, smooth stroke from root to tip. 

"Let me hear you, darling," Kylo prompted, gently. Hux obliged him with a choked off moan as he rolled his hips into his fist, his cock smearing fluid across his skin. His other hand tightened around the wheel, his knuckles whitening. 

"Be careful, now, won't you?" Kylo asked. "You wouldn't want anyone to look over and see you, trembling and flushing and squirming as you get yourself off just because I wanted you to." A small pause, then. "Unless, of course, that's also something you'd like." 

Hux bit his lip, sobbing and leaning forward to rest his forehead against the top of the steering wheel. He could feel his balls starting to tighten already, Kylo's teasing and the rich sound of his voice driving him to madness. His cock was twitching in his grip, and he could feel the pleasure pulling tight in the pit of his belly. 

"You're close, aren't you?" Kylo asked. Hux sobbed back an affirmative. 

"Come, then," Kylo replied, graciously, and Hux thanked him breathlessly, the words falling over in their eagerness to tumble from his mouth as he spilled himself over his fist, the front of his slacks, and the bottom curve of the steering wheel. He sighed, whimpering softly as he brought himself down, pulling his hand away after one last, long, lingering stroke, and sat back in the seat, a loose smile spreading across his face as his breathing slowed.

"Alright, then?" Kylo asked, and Hux was pleased to note that Kylo's voice sounded a bit strained. 

"Alright," Hux repeated, not even bothering to button up his shirt as the traffic started to move in front of him again. "That was...interesting."

"It certainly was," Kylo agreed. "I'd love to play again sometime, if you'd like."

"I would like that," Hux replied, a comfortable weariness settling into his bones. "Though I'd like to be the one making statements next time." 

"Of course," Kylo said. "I'm all about fairness. Now then, I'll consider this a more than adequate compensation for your promise, and while it's been lovely chatting with you, I have a bit of pressing business to take care of. I'm sure you understand." 

"Of course," Hux replied, smiling at the confirmation that Kylo wasn't nearly as unaffected as he sounded. "Think of me, won't you?"

"How could I not?" Kylo asked, and clicked off, leaving Hux moving slowly and dreamily through traffic, come drying slowly on his thighs, his mind full of phantom images of Kylo's large hands moving across his skin. 

 


	6. Papillary

The seamstress fourteen blocks down practiced the height of discretion, something for which Hux would never be able to thank her enough for. He admired himself in the floor-length trifold mirror, admired the way the soft fluorescent lights cast the planes and contours of his face and shoulders into smooth relief. The silky fabric of the black skirt fell in long panels around his legs, the hemline just sweeping over the surface of the small stool he was standing on, and the dress nipped in nicely at the waist. He could only imagine what he would look like at the ball, when he had all the components put together and he'd look a proper lovely thing. 

"That alright then, sir?" the seamstress asked, popping out from behind him and cocking a saucy eyebrow at him, her syllables heavy with an East Side twang and blurred with the thick wad of bubblegum she'd refused to stop chewing during his fitting. "You look real pretty."

"Yes, it's perfect," he murmured automatically, trying and failing to keep the smile from lingering around the corner of his mouth. 

"I'll just make these alterations here," she replied, reaching up on tiptoe to undo the knot of laces at the back, resting in the small hollow between his shoulder blades. Her skin was cold against his back. "It won't be but a few days. I'll give you a ring when it's ready." 

"Fantastic," Hux said, stepping down from the stool and helping wriggle his way out of the dress. It pooled like a shadow in the woman's arms as she gathered it up into pleats and folds. The man left in the mirror looked like a ghost, all pale long limbs and the beginnings of dark bruise circles beneath his eyes. He wasn't particularly attractive, wasn't particularly pretty, and he hastened to pull his clothes back on, averting his eyes so he didn't have to look.

"Who's the lucky one?" the seamstress wanted to know, pushing her wad of gum to the side of her mouth as she studied Hux critically. 

"Hopefully me," Hux replied, shrugging his coat on and studying his reflection critically. That looked a little better, a little more put together, and after a moment of thought, he buttoned his coat up to his chin. It was a little tight around the throat, choking off the backs of his words, but it offered him a measure of comfort that he took in leaps and bounds. "Hopefully me."

"Alright, then," the seamstress muttered, apparently unsatisfied by his answer, but when Hux looked up to meet her gaze in the mirror, he found her already busying herself with brushing stray threads off the fabric and sweeping them into the pocket of her smock. He had the uncanny feeling that he was being watched, that perhaps she was holding on to more information about him that was unsavory and unwise to belong in the public domain, and he took a quick, surreptitious look around the store. 

Not surreptitious enough, evidently. 

"Don't worry, I won't tell," the seamstress murmured without looking up, her tone bored, as though she saw this sort of thing every other day. Given the neighborhood her store was located in, perhaps she did. This did little to comfort him. "Lips zipped tight shut, and all." 

"I would appreciate that greatly," Hux affirmed, consoling himself with the thought of how Kylo's eyes would widen when he saw Hux sweeping up the stairs to the senator's mansion. He'd be beside himself, and Hux would...well. There was time for that later. Much later. 

* * *

 

He didn't fully relax until the door to his apartment had clicked firmly shut behind him and he'd double and triple checked the locks. The wood was smooth and cool against his palms. 

He was acting too suspicious, too paranoid, and that was nothing if not a recipe for certain trouble. Had she seen? Hux wondered to himself as he tossed his coat over the back of his sofa, toeing off his shoes to rest next to the baseboard in the foyer. Had she seen the red creases just over the waistband of his slacks from where the leather of his belt dug in so delicious? Had she thought that maybe, possibly - 

No. He shook his head to clear away his thoughts, and failed miserably. No, he told himself again firmly, even as he set about rummaging through his cupboards for the bottle of scotch he kept in the back of a cabinet. The amber liquid sloshed into a cut crystal glass tumbler, and he could almost taste it already, the way it would burn his throat as it went down to grow heat in the pit of his belly. 

Mitaka had never liked scotch. He'd liked wine, sparkling and sweet, so intoxicating Hux could grow dizzy just by tasting it on his lips. He'd grow rougher, too, the more he drank and the more Hux riled him up, leaving the beginnings of five-fingered bruises on the swells of Hux's hips, and Hux would push back into the roughness and long for more. Hungry. Greedy. Starving. 

Hux took a swallow of scotch, set himself aflame. The puzzle pieces were starting to click neatly into place, and his worry and fear washed away in a wave of triumph that he couldn't help but relish. 

* * *

 

"Arranging your own ride to the ball tomorrow?" His father sounded appropriately irritated, but Hux could tell he was merely feigning annoyance. Any circumstance that might allow him to avoid his son and his deviant tendencies was all well and good, and Hux knew it all too well. "I hardly think a yellow cab pulling up to the curb of Senator Organa's house would make a good impression." 

"Relax," Hux muttered, taking a sip from his coffee mug and pretending to be engrossed by the charts and trendlines of a financial presentation he'd pulled up on his tablet as a pretense to visit his father's office. It was a slide deck he'd had put together for ages now, but what his father didn't know certainly couldn't hurt him. Case in point. "I'll take an Uber. An UberX, even. A Lincoln car, something like that. Heaven forbid I disgrace you."

"Yes, heaven forbid," his father agreed, though his tone had lightened into something that sounded almost approving. It was not a good sound for him. "Do your best not to arrive too fashionably late, won't you? I did promise Senator Organa an introduction." 

"Right, of course," Hux acquiesced, though he had every intention of arriving much later than his father. He'd have to time it just right, make sure his father was already well into his fourth or fifth brandy and infatuated with the wealth of influential people that were certain to be milling around the generous boundaries of the senator's mansion. He wanted to slip in somewhat unnoticed, but not so unnoticed that Kylo failed to see him. It was a tricky line to toe, but Hux was feeling lucky. Everything else so far had gone well, and he refused to allow his grand plans to be foiled by something as simple as arrival etiquette. 

If everything went as planned, Senator Organa would not get an introduction, and, even better, wouldn't remember Brendol's promise. Brendol would call the night a rousing success, and would be so busy nursing a hangover that he would neglect to mention Hux's apparent absence. 

"Glad that's settled, then," his father grunted, turning back to his computer screens. Hux could see nothing of particular importance on the monitors, but rose to leave anyway. It was obvious when he was being dismissed, and he hardly wanted to incur any more of his father's displeasure than was necessary. 

* * *

 

Hux pursed his lips as he glared critically into the small round mirror on his bathroom dresser. He patted at his cheeks with the sponge, brushing the foundation onto his skin. The makeup tutorials he'd been watching online hadn't really been too helpful, but he supposed that after a few glasses of wine, nobody would really be paying too much attention. He was banking on it. 

The dress he'd picked up from the seamstress was hanging delicately over the back of a chair, long swathes of sleeveless shadow with a lace neckline that would accentuate his collarbones and his slender neck. He could hardly wait to step into it, watch in the mirror as his sharp edges and angles were transformed into soft curves and hints of something more. 

He shivered a bit, his skin pebbling in the cold air of his apartment, forced himself to concentrate as he brushed over his mouth with maroon lipstick. It tasted vaguely of chalk when he ran his tongue over the swell of his lower lip, and he batted his lashes at his reflection, admiring the way he'd become almost pretty. Almost, and always. 

He left an uncharacteristic longing five-fingered smudge against the mirror's glass before turning away to step into the dress. 

* * *

 

"You...Armitage?" the Uber driver called through the passenger window of the town car, arching a skeptical eyebrow. Hux nodded briefly, clutching the beaded clutch he'd purchased for the occasion close while he waited for the driver to unlock the car. 

After a few breathless moments during which he was sure the driver would tell him to fuck off, the doors unlocked and he gathered his skirts around him, stepping into the back seat. 

"Odd name," the driver muttered, still sounding skeptical as he pulled away from the curb. Hux made a noncommittal noise in his throat, leaning back in his seat and trying to concentrate on the feeling of the stays pressing him in close. "Your parents must have had a sick sense of humor."

Hux said nothing. The driver muttered something under his breath, perhaps something about boring passengers, but didn't say anything else to him. The lights of the city slowly flickered by outside, and he sighed softly, contentedly, sipping at the air, scented with a soft citrus perfume he'd picked out and the faint tang of cigarettes that had embedded itself in the leather seats. 

His fingers scrabbled inside his clutch for a moment before pulling out a small silver flask he'd been given for his twenty-first birthday. A sip of liquid courage, then. A gulp. It certainly couldn't hurt. Nothing could touch him, and he'd be invincible. 

* * *

 

The ball was already in full swing by the time the driver pulled up to the side of the mansion. Hux thanked him as quietly as possible, and the driver grunted noncommittally before pulling away from the curb the instant Hux slammed the door. The ushers to either side of the mansion's front doors only gave his creamy card stock invitation a customary glance before nodding him inside, and Hux wriggled his way in to the crush of people, his black skirts whispering around his ankles as he twisted to grab a flute of champagne off a passing waiter's tray. The bubbles popped lightly on his tongue and he left a light crimson stain against the lip of the glass as he searched over shoulders and around the darker corners of the rooms for Kylo. 

His father was dancing a particularly inspired - and particularly clumsy - waltz with the senator, and Hux made sure to give them a wide berth. The champagne and the scotch he'd drunk earlier in the car were working wonders for his complexion, he thought to himself, admiring his wavy reflection in the mirrored ceiling. His cheeks were flushed a soft rose, his hair was falling in light waves and gentle curls over his brow, and he looked, drank his fill, Narcissus falling in love with his own reflection, so infatuated that he failed to notice the way people were starting to part in a V behind him. 

"Beautiful, Armitage," a dark voice whispered in his ear, and he jumped, champagne sloshing over his wrist. "Shh, shh, don't make a scene." 

He turned to look over his shoulder, met Kylo's eyes, was relieved to find that there wasn't any repulsion or irritation there. Kylo was smiling at him, a hint of hunger around the corners of his mouth, and Hux was still struggling to find the words to explain himself before Kylo's hand had locked around his wrist, dragging him through the sea of people. 

"This is your surprise for me, is it?" Kylo asked, once he'd managed to push Hux into the shadows of the relatively empty library. The only other occupants were chatting and sipping at goblets of spiced wine by the fireplace, and the swells of the live orchestra were soft, padded with thick walls and the dazzling array of books around them. 

"It is," Hux agreed, swallowing roughly. Kylo's laugh sent tingles up and down his spine, more so when Kylo lifted his champagne-sticky hand to his mouth and pressed kisses to the palm, the fingers, the carefully pearl-polished nails. "Do you like it?"

"You make a lovely girl," Kylo agreed, allowing Hux to trace his fingertips over his mouth, wondering, daring to hope. "I was looking all over for you when your father was announced." 

"I thought it would be a little more prudent to arrive without him," Hux murmured, distracted by the way Kylo's shoulders were straining against his dress shirt. Their shadows leapt larger than life against the wall, hulking and slender in turn, and he found himself sorely wishing for Kylo to crush him, break him like a matchstick before picking up the pieces and casting him into flame. 

"I can understand why." Kylo let Hux's hand drop back to his side, took a small step back to examine him critically. His eyes swept over Hux's made-up face, taking in the softly curled hair, the scarlet lips, before trailing down, his gaze piercing through the silky fabric to where Hux was laced up tight and secure and breathless. "You really do a thorough job." 

"No sense playing the part if you don't do it right," Hux sniffed, but was gratified when Kylo leaned in again, his large hands settling on the artificial curve of his waist. He could almost feel Mitaka's jealousy burning him. 

"No, no sense at all," Kylo breathed, squeezing at Hux's sides, tight, tight, tighter, his palms feeling out against the boning. "I can hardly wait to unwrap my present." 

Hux's heart skipped a beat, and he began to wonder if perhaps things might be progressing faster than he'd originally planned, began to hope that they certainly were. 

"It would be my pleasure," he managed to choke out. The room was starting to spin delicately around him, books and words blurring with the dancing light from the fireplace, and he could hardly breathe. It was fantastic beyond his wildest dreams, ecstasy tempered only with the slight fear of what might happen when his dress pooled black on Kylo's bedroom floor. It was a sobering thought, but Kylo appeared to sense his sudden stiffness. 

"Too much?" Kylo asked, frowning with what looked like a certain amount of concern as he looked down at Hux, liquid eyes threatening to melt Hux away. His hands relaxed, and Hux sipped in air, the dark spots floating in his vision slowly starting to dissipate. 

"No, no," Hux managed, his heart pounding so hard he was surprised Kylo didn't comment on it. "I just...want another drink." Alcohol would turn him into a wavering vision, he was sure, and maybe the lighting in Kylo's bedroom would be dim, he'd be unable to see, and if he did, well. Hux was quite sure Kylo's mouth would look pretty all closed up, too. 

Kylo's smile returned in full force, his hands leaving Hux's waist in favor of gripping him by the wrist and steering him out of the library. "Another drink sounds excellent, dear," he murmured, his tone almost mocking, almost loving. "Whatever makes my little lush happy." 

"Not a lush," Hux protested, though he was rather well aware he was starting to veer towards severely tipsy. If Kylo's steadying hand on the small of his back was any indication, Kylo didn't think much of his comment, either. 

"Maybe not," Kylo laughed, snatching a flute of champagne off a waiter's tray and stuffing it into Hux's hand. The waiter nodded to Kylo, murmured something about hoping the young master was having a good time and staying out of trouble, and thankfully paid not a whit of attention to Hux. "But you are mine. Aren't you?"

Hux took a deep swallow of champagne to avoid answering, but his mouth curved into a smile against the glass. It was answer enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr at misayawriting.tumblr.com  
> :)


End file.
